


In the Woods where Demons Wait

by Miscellaneous_Subtext



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, In The Woods, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miscellaneous_Subtext/pseuds/Miscellaneous_Subtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles can't sleep, he just needs to get away, just for a little while. Peter's the one who finds him and gives him a place to escape to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Woods where Demons Wait

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago, but I only just finished it while I was waiting for the new episode. So yea, here you go. All mistakes are mine because I don't normally have someone to read over it.

Stiles is in the woods, he can feel the cold earth beneath his feet. His jeans feel too tight and his hoodie tickles his otherwise bare skin. There is a soft, warm breeze blowing that makes the trees sway and the leaves tremble on the ground. It’s too dark for Stiles to see very far in front of himself, but he has spent so many years in these woods that he hardly needs to. He’s not really sure what he’s doing, or maybe he does, he needs to get away. He just needs a moment to think, to reassess everything that’s happened in the last few weeks. He needs to be away from the pressure of being a son, a friend, a pack member; he needs to be away from himself for a while. The woods don’t care who he is, out here he’s just another animal amongst all the others. 

“Hello, little human.” Stiles flinches at the words, coming to a stop at the familiar voice. 

“What do you want, Peter?” Stiles turns, finding the glowing yellow eyes in the dark and the dark outline of the older man. “Unless you get off on following helpless humans around in the middle of the night?” Stiles can hear the question in his own voice, like he’s actually questioning Peter’s motivation in this, like Stiles actually cares about the once dead wolf. 

“Don’t be like that, Stiles. Maybe I just want the pleasure of your company.” Stiles snorts, even as Peter steps forward, lifting one hand to cup Stiles’s jaw. His hand is warm, his touch gentle and it’s so strange because this is Peter. “So pretty… So strong…” Peter is almost purring the words, and even though Stiles heart is beating unevenly, he doesn’t move away. Peter’s thumb brushes over Stiles’s bottom lip, leaning in closer to breath in the teenagers scent. Stiles shudders, but doesn’t pull away, he’s not even sure he could if he wanted to. He’s frozen in the moment, unsure which way he wants to move or what will happen next. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles lifts his hand slowly, places it against Peter’s chest, feels the soft fabric of his shirt and the movement of his chest as he breathes. “I came out here to be alone, you know. You being here… isn’t alone.” Peter’s hands slips down, curling around Stiles’s hip. Peter steps in closer, crowding Stiles slowly back into the nearest tree. 

“Exactly…” Peter whisper, breath hot and wet on Stiles’s face. Stiles breathes in a long shaky breath and then Peter is there catching Stiles breath as he exhales. The wolf’s body is hot against Stiles’s and he wiggles. He should be used to the heat, Derek and Scott have a tendency to stand to close, but this is different. Peter is different. Peter is pressed up against him, even inch of Peter holding Stiles against the tree. Peter’s teeth scrape across Stiles’s bottom lip and Stiles shivers, he feels like he’s head has suddenly burst into flames. 

“Peter…” He manages to mutter, but it sounds breathy and weak. Stiles mind is blurred and slow; he feels helpless. Stiles feels like the world has stopped, Peter’s touch has frozen the world and they are the only things left in the world. And then Stiles realises, that this is the feeling he’d been searching for. He’d come to the woods to find an escape from it all, and here Peter is, the solution, the answer and everything Stiles has been looking for. 

“Let go, Stiles.” Peter’s mouth moves down, brushing over Stiles’s pulse point, nipping at the skin of his neck. “You know that’s what you want. Let me look after you.” Stiles is tempted for a moment to push him away, because Peter shouldn’t be the answer. Peter is the crazy psycho murderer. He killed Laura, bit Scott, threatened Melissa. He’s… not supposed to… He’s not… Stiles’s head falls back against the tree and he lets out of soft moan. Peter takes this as permission and it is, this is Stiles giving in. 

“Ohh…” It feels good, Peter licks over his neck, hands hard on Stiles’s hips. Stiles’s brain is stuck on how good it feels, how his dick is twitching in his pants. He gasps and shoves his head back into the tree as Peter bites and sucks. It’s going to leave a mark and Stiles knows that’s bad, but right now he can’t remember why.

“Good boy…” The sound of a zip is grating against Stiles’s ears and he feels his hoodie slip down his shoulders. “Interesting…” Peter says, eyes gliding over Stiles’s naked torso. The need to be escape had come over Stiles suddenly, one minute he’d been lying in bed in nothing but he’s boxes and the next he was grabbing the clothes nearest to him and fleeing the house. But that’s a distant memory now. Peter drops to his knees, one hand against Stiles’s chest keeping him pinned to the tree. He unbuttons Stiles’s jeans, slides them down Stiles’s hips with big, rough hands. He glides his nose across Stiles’s stomach, making his muscles tense. Stiles watches him, watches Peter nose over the tent in his boxes and then push them down as well. Peter’s breath is so hot when it touches Stiles’s dick and he can’t the way he jerks and fists his hands in Peter’s hair. Stiles’s jeans slide down and join his hoodie on the ground as he steps out of them. 

“So beautiful, so pale, like the moon.” Peter mummers, lips trailing over Stiles’s hipbone. “You’re beautiful, Stiles.” Peter mummers as he finally strips Stiles of his boxes and Stiles steps out of them leaving him naked and cold. Somehow though, he feels lighter and more at ease that he’s in weeks, possibly even months.

“I didn’t know you were so sentimental.” Stiles laughs, light and airy and he feels like he could float away at any minute, only Peter’s hold on his keeps him tethered. Peter’s tongue slides over Stiles’s hipbone and his tongue is wet and rough, catching on Stiles’s skin and making him shudder. 

“Not always,” Peter grins and bites down and Stiles’s whole body jerks back, because it hurt. There’s no blood when he looks down, but it’s red and it’s guaranteed to bruise.

“Fuck!” It’s a gasp of air, torn from his body, the flesh of his hip is throbbing, but as Peter licks over it the pain ebbs until it’s nothing more than a pleasant ache. Peter chuckles as he lifts off and looks up at Stiles with glowing, blue eyes, looking far too self-satisfied. 

“You’re evil.” Stiles strokes his fingers throw Peter’s hair, he can’t really stop himself. Peter’s hair is soft, Stiles wonders if there’s grey in it yet, it’s too dark to see, but Stiles likes to imagine that he does.

“You knew that already.” And then Peter opens his mouth and sucks Stiles’s dick into his mouth.   
“Fuck!” Stiles can’t help saying again, his head thumps back and his eyes fall closed. It’s so good, Peter’s mouth is hot and the suction is amazing. Stiles wants to look down, to open his eyes and watch his dick sliding in and out of Peter’s mouth. He can’t though, his eyes are glued shut and his head is light and he feels like his knees are going to give out. Peter’s fingers are clawed and their kneading at Stiles’s ass, holding him up and shoving him forward into Peter’s mouth. Stiles jerks as his dick hits the back of Peter’s throat and he yanks on Peter’s hair. Peter growls, and it’s practically a purr. It’s to much, the heat and the pressure and the vibrations and Stiles’s is coming. His hips jerk as his whole body spasms and he slumps forward over Peter’s over. Peter eases off his cock and Stiles groans, he’s over sensitised and wrung out. 

“Easy now.” Peter mummers, voice hoarse and Stiles can’t help the shiver that runs through him, because he did that. Stiles slides down, lets Peter pull him down until he’s sitting half in Peter’s lap and half against the tree. Stiles rests his head against Peter’s shoulder, lets himself breathe deeply until he can breathe evenly again. Then he starts to shiver and it’s not the good kind of shiver this time, it’s the cold. Stiles’s presses himself closer to Peter, absorbs the heat from the werewolf. 

“Feel better?” Peter asks, hands stroking over Stiles back, rubbing warmth into Stiles’s skin. Stiles hums softly in response, unable to find words. “Well this is a first. Stiles Stilinski, speechless at last.” Stiles wants to raise a hand, wants to smack Peter, but he just doesn’t have the energy. Instead he opens his mouth and nips at Peter’s shoulder. Peter just laughs and ruffs Stiles hair, Stiles can’t even be bothered to be offended, he just yawns and snuggles against Peter’s shoulder. 

“Come on Stiles, time to go home.” And it hits him that Peter’s being reasonable and maybe even a little bit protective. That thought makes Stiles little bubble of peace rather abruptly and the weight of the world returns to his shoulders. He’s naked in the woods with Peter fucking Hale strung out and sticky from an orgasm. 

“Fuck,” Stiles doesn’t want to move, moving will make this whole thing reality, rather than a strange dream.

“Go home Stiles, sleep. Think about it tomorrow.” Stiles hates that Peter’s fingers feel great scratching against his head and through his hair. He hates that Peter is the one that’s seen him so weak. Peter slides one hand under Stiles’s chin and lifts his head. Stiles stares into dark eyes, no longer wolf blue and sighs. 

“You worry too much.” Peter mouth is twisted into a small smile and he pecks Stiles on the lips. “Go home Stiles.” Peter sounds like he’s trying to be reassuring and Stiles finds that somehow it is reassuring. 

“Ok…” Stiles sighs, “Ok.” He finds his clothes, lets Peter watch as he pulls them back on. Stiles gets another small kiss before Peter disappears into the dark. Stiles goes home feeling relaxed with his lips tingling from that last kiss. He drifts to sleep as soon as he’s curled into bed. He dreams of large rough hands and the smell of dry leaves and salt lingers in his nose even when he wakes.


End file.
